


Marked

by EJWalters



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 16:57:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20085637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EJWalters/pseuds/EJWalters
Summary: You work at convincing Crowley to show you his eyes, but he's a little insecure about them.





	Marked

You had known Crowley for close to four thousand years now, and something was bothering you. You had yet to see his eyes. He was your best friend and honestly, it hurt that he didn’t trust you with his eyes. So, being the stubborn person you are, you decided to confront him about it.

“Hey, Crowley?” you asked, leaning on the back of the couch he was sitting on.

“Yeah?”

“Why won’t you let me see your eyes?”

He shifts uncomfortably, “There’s never been a reason to.”

“I suppose not, but I want to see them,” you said.

“Look, Y/N, there’s really no reason that you need to see them,” he argued.

“That’s why I said that I  _ want _ to, not that I  _ need _ to,” you counter, walking around the couch to sit beside him.

You could tell he was rolling his eyes by the way the rest of his face moved, “Semantics.”

“Why don’t you want me to see your eyes?” you asked.

“Because they’re my demon mark,” he said, “And I hate them.”

“I always thought your demon mark was your tattoo,” you said, gesturing to his snake tattoo on his sideburns.

He shook his head.

“What if I promise not to laugh?” you offered.

“Promise?” he asked, holding up his pinky.

You giggled and hooked yours around his, “Promise.”

He let out a sigh, “Alright, fine.”

Crowley reached up and removed his ever present sunglasses from his face. You giggled when you saw he was squeezing his eyes shut.

“Crowley, I promise I’m not going to hate you for your eyes. You’re my best friend. I could never hate you,” you promised, taking one of his hands in both of yours. There was a pause, “I’ve got a mark, too, you know. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. And I’ve never shown mine to anyone.”

“You have a mark? But your a halfling,” Crowley remarked in confusion.

You chuckled, “Yeah cuz I was bad at being an angel but not quite bad enough to be a demon. So both sides marked me and cast me out to be on Earth. I suppose they thought it was a punishment, but it was a blessing in disguise. I suppose I have the Almighty to thank for that.”

“A blessing? How was it a blessing?”

“I got my best friend back, Raphael,” you said.

Crowley’s eyes snapped open in shock, revealing his amber irises with slits for pupils, like a snakes, “How did you know?!”

You chuckled, “You have the stars painted on the ceiling in your room perfectly. And they never bothered to erase my memory when you fell. I suppose they didn’t think I was important enough.”

You looked up and gasped, “Crowley, they’re beautiful.”

You had never seen the demon’s face go such a brilliant shade of scarlet before as he mumbled a, “Thanks.”

You stared at his eyes in awe as he fidgeted.

After a few moments, he cleared his throat, “Right then. I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

You nodded and turned your back to him, pushing your shirt over your head and holding it in front of your chest, arms still through the sleeves. Your back now bare to the world, Crowley could see that it was mostly covered in a complex pattern of black and gold. It was like the two colors were battling eachother to cover more skin. The black was rough like calloused hands of someone who had had no option but to use them. The gold was smooth and scaly like the skin of a snake. If you just looked at it, though, it looked like a really complex tattoo covering the burn scars of an injury long passed, but not soon to be forgotten. And honestly, that wasn’t far from the truth.

Crowley gaped at it and reached gentle fingers out to touch the mark on your back. When they made contact to it, you flinched away instinctively.

“Sorry,” he apologized immediately.

“It’s alright. It’s just instinct,” you said softly.

“They did this to you?” he asked, voice soft as you had ever heard it.

You nodded, “Yes.”

“Who?”

“Gabriel and Beelzebub,” you admitted.

He ran his fingers over the mark, feeling the difference in texture of the colors that made it up, “It’s horrific, but beautiful at the same time.”

You sniffed, “It’s not beautiful Crowley. It’s a constant reminder that no one wants me.”

“That’s not true, love,” Crowley pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around your middle, “Aziraphale and I love you very much.”

You sigh and lean back into him, “I love you too, but it’s a different kind of love than the love the two of you have for eachother.”

“Well of course it is. I couldn’t possibly love you the way I love him,” he said, quickly continuing when he saw and felt you deflate against him, “You’re entirely different people, Y/N. You wouldn’t be able to love me the way you love angel, would you?”

You thought about it for a moment, “I suppose not.”

“Well there you go.”

You smiled, “Thanks, Crowley.”

He kissed your temple, “Anytime, love.”


End file.
